


The White Rose Sacrificed

by WhiteRosewithThorns



Category: The Cousins' War Series - Philippa Gregory, The White Queen (TV)
Genre: F/M, Fantasy, Historical Inaccuracy, Uncle/Niece Incest
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-20
Updated: 2017-02-20
Packaged: 2018-09-25 22:31:22
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Major Character Death, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,943
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9849320
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WhiteRosewithThorns/pseuds/WhiteRosewithThorns
Summary: Together with her mother, they put a curse on her brother Edward V’s murderer. She was told that she must do what her mother did twenty years ago - fight for her family's cause. She was also taught that she is the descendant of Melusine and no man can resist her. The consequences were beyond what Elizabeth could ever anticipated.





	

**Author's Note:**

> This fic is not historically accurate. It's sort of rewrite of later episodes of The White Queen and The White Princess with some influence from "Game of Thrones."

She, Elizabeth of York, was a King’s daughter; a King’s sister; and a King’s niece. But also, she was now a bastard. The King of England, her uncle Richard III, was a possible murderer of her missing brother Edward. She and her sister Cecily returned to the court from sanctuary after her mother Elizabeth Woodville made peace with the King.

For Christmas, the Queen, Lady Anne Neville, had tailors made a beautiful dress for her as a gift. When the ladies took her measurements, Elizabeth closed her eyes.

_Her gown was stripped from her, followed by her shift._

_She stood stark naked before a man sitting before candle lights. His face was too dark to be recognized._

Only the Queen's loud, incessant coughs brought Elizabeth back to reality.

Shocked, she ran back to her mother’s manor that night. 

“You had a seeing.” her mother told her. “Did you see his face?”

“No,” she shook her head.

“Really?”

“I think…it’s Richard,” she muttered. 

“Richard?” Her mother rose. “You cannot think that! He could be the murderer of your brother! Have you forgotten our curse?”

She was referring to the night before Elizabeth’s return to the court. By the stream near the sanctuary, she and Elizabeth put a curse on the murderer of her son Edward - whoever he is. Together they cursed this individual’s male line to die out. 

“I don’t believe Richard could do such a thing,” Elizabeth insisted. “He’s a very honorable and charismatic man.”

“You know that he hates me,” her mother reminded her.

“But he loves me.”

“Lizzie, is this the truth or is this what you want to believe?” Her mother questioned. ‘I have already heard the rumors. They are saying that you and Richard…”

“It is not true, not now,” Elizabeth said, somewhat bitterly. “I admit that I thought I would hate him for killing Uncle Anthony and Thomas. But after meeting him, it’s different.”

Her mother thought for a moment and said, “Twenty years ago, I waited for your father under the oak tree and asked him fight for my cause. I was a widow with two sons and not an acre of land. Now, you will do the same thing I did - to restore your family’s power in the court with a King fighting for your cause.”

“And Henry Tudor?” Elizabeth knew that he and his mother Lady Margaret Beaufort were also possibly involved in the murder of her brother.

“You will marry Henry Tudor if he wins,” her mother said without hesitation. “But he could also lose, and if he does, you will marry Richard. Like you said, he might not be the murderer of your brother.”

“Lady Anne is barren,” Elizabeth muttered. “Richard needs a son if he was to rule England. He will put her away and make me his new Queen.”

+++

 

Richard didn't put Anne away as Elizabeth had much hoped. Or maybe he didn't need to; the Queen died. 

Maybe she died from consumption, or the grief of losing her son. Rumors had it that King Richard had the Queen poisoned so that he could marry Elizabeth.

Elizabeth shuddered at the thought. But, at the same time, she was joyous that the King would take such a measure because he longs for her as she longs for him. Staring at her reflection in the mirror, she knew she is beautiful. At age nineteen, she was a woman who should be wed. When she thought about Richard, she was thinking of him as a man instead of as a King or as her uncle. It was a sin to have such lustful thoughts; but the Church will allow such a marriage to occur with dispensation. She also told herself that Eleanor of Aquitaine also had an affair with her uncle Raymond during the Crusade.

Playing with her brush, she was waiting for the King to summon her. He had lost his wife and son; he must be very tormented and lonely. He needed someone to comfort him.

Someone like Elizabeth. 

Finally, a note was delivered; it was from Richard. 

 _Come to my bedchamber tonight_.

+++

She came to his bedchamber and found the King wearing only his shirt and breeches. He bolted the door and went to her. She was only wearing a robe over her nightgown. Her hair was brushed out. 

“Come,” he said. 

Elizabeth went to him and he placed his hand on her cheek, then pulled her into a kiss. Her heart skipped a beat and smiled against his lips when he cupped her breast through the fabric. He slipped her robe off her and guided her to remove his shirt. 

 _The Queen is gone_ , Elizabeth told herself. _It is not a sin for him to bed another_.

He took her to the bed and unlaced her nightgown, exposing her right breast. She blushed deeply when he drew circles around her areola and threw back her head when he replaced his finger with his tongue. The more he licked, the more she wanted him. Shamelessly, she tugged her nightgown over her head. He laid her down and his eyes roamed over her body. Her neck was perfectly shaped; her breasts full and ample; her legs slender and long. He began a trial of kiss from her neck down to her belly. She inhaled deeply when he kissed her between between thighs as his hands played with the triangle of red hair above . 

“Richard,” she moaned.

Hearing her calling for him, he kissed her belly and made his way up to her lips. He pulled her legs wide apart and held her knees up against her torso. She cried out when he thrust his manhood into her thin canal of womanhood- 

+++

It was only a dream. She was actually in bed with her sister Cecily.

The dream…it was so real.

The next morning, she longed to see the King. But instead, the King given the order to have her sent away.

+++

She had to see him. 

No, he could not just send her away like this. Elizabeth was agitated at the thought that Richard winning the war against Tudor and then marry another woman. That dream filled her mind with lustful thoughts. She couldn’t bear the image of another woman sitting next to Richard as his queen or in his bed bearing his heir. 

She was her mother’s daughter. Her mother had waited for her father under the oak tree. She would go to Richard before the final battle between him and Henry Tudor. Elizabeth firmly believed that Tudor was responsible for her brother Edward’s death. If she were to marry Tudor, then her children will suffer from the curse. She would go to Richard and seal her position as his wife and queen after he wins the battle. 

_We are the descendants of Melusine, her mother had told her. No men will resist us._

She went to his tent, only to find Richard staring at her coldly. 

He had seen her sometimes when she was a child. He returned to the court before his brother Ned passed away. They saw each other again; she was all grown up and he was approaching his thirties.

Age thirty-two - a dangerous young age for an uncle.

After Elizabeth returned to the court from sanctuary, rumors had it that he fell in love with his niece and was to put Anne away. Poor Anne. Before she breathed her last, she told him that she wanted him to move on - with Elizabeth. Richard knew he loved Anne and still does. However, he couldn't deny that there was a spark of lust in his heart when he saw Elizabeth. 

It was something Richard couldn’t understand. How did they come to this? And why?

Uncle-niece marriage was a sin; but possible with church’s permission. It would be for the sake of York and sake of England. But seeing her here in his tent, Richard was disgusted. He knew the tale of Eleanor of Aquitaine and her uncle Raymond of Poitiers and their rumored affair during the Crusade. Clever girl, he thought. In his eyes, Elizabeth was not his beloved niece and daughter of her brother Ned; rather she was the daughter and granddaughter of sirens and witches. 

“You shouldn’t be here,” he said coldly. “Leave!”

“No,” Elizabeth approached. “Please, don’t say that. Don’t deny what we have.” She approached him closer and closer. “My mother waited for my father under the oak tree, asking him to help her cause. Together, they established a dynasty. Now, I am here and asking you to help my cause. Win. Don’t let Tudor take me. Make me your queen. Your love for me will unite England and all York loyalists under your banner.”

Richard looked at her as if she’s stranger.

Suddenly, Elizabeth pulled out his dagger and pointed it at her throat. “If you were to refuse me, I will end my life. I would rather die than being the wife of Tudor.”

Calmly, Richard went to her. He took the dagger from her hand and threw it aside. Carefully, she took his hand and placed it against her breast, just like in her dream.

They began to kiss.

Alas! Elizabeth thought. It is going to happen. She could hear Richard unbuckle his belt; torn open his doublet; took off his shirt, revealing his muscular torso. She placed her hand against his chest and waited for him to resume their kiss. If he were to take her maidenhead, then he would have no choice but to marry her after the war is over.

He did kiss her again.

But the kiss became hard. Too hard.

His hand were like claws. He torn open her laces and stripped her down to her waist. Her breasts and belly were exposed to the cold air. 

He pushed her down onto his bed. He dug into her neck and used his teeth. Elizabeth gasped and groaned in pain. This was not how she envisioned! Like a beast, he mercilessly left bite marks from her neck down to her torso.

She cried out when he pinched her nipple. “No, Richard, please,” she begged.

Richard looked at her harshly. “You dare to say no to your King! Have you forgotten why you came here? Isn't this what you want?” 

Elizabeth was silenced.

He pinched her other breast, harder than he did to the first one. “Aye,” she groaned. He stripped her gown off her altogether and threw her onto her belly. He penetrated into her deeply from behind. 

“Ah!” Elizabeth cried out in pain.

He thrust in and out; in and out, and harder each time; not for love, but in disgust, anger, and despise. She was a daughter and granddaughter of witches; sirens that seduce men for their own ends. He hated her mother and her scheming; he hated her for making him wanting her; and he hated her for the grief she caused Anne. Fuck the throne! He would rather die in the battlefield than starting a dynasty with her.

Finally, he pulled out of her, panting and sweating. He shoved her out of the bed. Before she could grab her garments to cover herself, Richard pulled her up and held her head back by her hair. “Is this what you want? To be Queen of England, you and your mother scheme to seduce me while negotiating a marriage with Tudor. You killed my Anne with the grief you caused her and for that, I will never forgive you. If Tudor wins, he has to marry you. This is what he will find on your marital night. You are no longer a virgin; your body is no longer beautiful. When you give birth to your first child, would it be mine or Tudors?”

He threw Elizabeth out of the tent and her dress after her.

Hastily, she threw her dress over her naked body. She could barely walk.

_Mother, what have you done to me?_

_+++_

_After the Battle of Bosworth_

“I will not marry this whore!” Henry Tudor protested vehemently. “She’s the lover of the usurper!”

“Henry! It might be a rumor,” Lady Margaret Beaufort calmed her son. “You will marry Elizabeth and make her your queen.”

“She was seen leaving the usurper’s tent in the middle of the night, naked!” Henry spat. “And her shift was discovered in the usurper’s tent! How could a King’s daughter behave like a whore and camp follower? She is a witch’s daughter and the usurper’s whore! I can still stabilize my throne with a French marriage!”

“The usurper could’ve had other women in his tent,” Lady Margaret told him. “We can see the truth, and if she is indeed unclean, we can amend that.”

After a long silence, Henry spoke, “I agree, only if I will stay and watch the process.”

_+++_

Elizabeth was supposed to meet Henry Tudor. Her heart was still shaking from that violent night with Richard. What she had envisioned to be sweet and romantic turned out to be dark and horrific. Richard despised her. 

But Henry and Lady Margaret did not show up.

A lady-in-waiting to Lady Margaret came instead. Her mother went to her and the two exchanged words. Solemnly, her mother went to her, “You must go with her. Whatever Lady Margaret have you to do, you _must_ comply. Remember your duties.”

She was not referring to her duty as a wife. She was referring to her duties as a daughter and a sister. Her brother Richard was still somewhere hidden in England; waiting to sit on the throne that is rightfully his. 

Elizabeth followed the lady and they came to a dark chamber. The door was bolted and windows were sealed. Henry sat before the candle lights and his mother stood behind him.

Lady Margaret gave a nod and two matrons went to Elizabeth. Without a word, they unlaced her dress and stripped it off her. Swallowing her pride, Elizabeth stepped out of her dress. One matron held her still as other one pulled her legs apart and rolled up her shift. Elizabeth silently endured the humiliation when the matron examined her. 

After the matron went to Lady Margaret, what she was saying, Elizabeth couldn’t hear but knew.

“We will have her cleaned,” Lady Margaret assured her son.

“Have it done here,” Henry said. “I want to watch.”

The matrons fetched two basins of water and soap bar. They stripped off her shift and stocking and scrubbed every inch of her body - her neck, her shoulder, her breasts, and between the legs. When they turned her to wash her behind. Henry noticed her long red hair.

“The hair,” Henry pointed out. “I want them gone.”

Anything touched by the usurper…

“It shall be done.”

The matrons shoved Elizabeth down on a chair. One with a razor and other with shears, they trimmed off her locks of long red curls from her scalp.

“I want all hair gone,” Henry said. 

Henry had had other women during his exile. He knew full well what a man can do with a woman.

The matron pulled her up. Using the razor, they shaved the hair underneath her arms and the triangle of red hair between her legs.

Silent tears fell from her eyes. Her clothes were taken; her body was exposed to her father’s enemy; and her hair was shaven. She was once a King’s daughter and Princess of England. Now, she was “the Usurper’s whore” whom forced to marry the new King, whose claim to the throne was much weaker than Richard’s but who is just as disgusted with her.

“We must have her sealed for ten months,” Henry spoke, softened a little. “I want to make sure that she isn’t carrying that usurper’s bastard.”

“You are thinking like a King, Henry,” Lady Margaret remarked with satisfaction. “There is a secret route. Take her to her new chamber, as she is. This will be her atonement.”

The matrons escorted her from behind as Elizabeth walked barefoot and naked to her new chamber. After the door was closed, she broke down on the ground. 

+++

Ten months later, she reemerged from the sealed chamber. She married Henry Tudor, who had no love for her.

Her mother was stripped of her lands and once again, she sought sanctuary. She didn’t even say goodbye to Elizabeth. Her sisters were married off but left destitute. Her brother, Richard, finally started a rebellion with the support of Richard III’s confidant Francis Lovell. While suppressing the rebellion, Henry had Elizabeth locked up. He only visited her to demand her marital duties until she falls pregnant. In the end, her brother Richard lost in the rebellion and was executed.

She gave birth eight times, and only three were sons. Her youngest son Edmund died at age one and when her oldest son Arthur died at age 16, she remembered the curse. 

The murderer of her brother Edward, his male line will die out. 

So, was it Henry Tudor, who’s responsible for the death of her brother? But Richard also died without a son…and now her own mother’s male line ended. What does it mean? Who really killed her brother Edward. Maybe they all did - due to their ambitions and hunger for power. Now she was paying for their sins. A rose sacrificed for their ambitions.

Elizabeth died at age 37, after suffered eighteen years. Before her death, she reminisced that night when she and her mother put a curse on her brother Edward’s murderer. Was it worth it?

She did die as Queen of England. But she wished that she could go back and be a King’s bastard daughter. 

**Author's Note:**

> I like to write erotica and forbidden love. If you like, feel free to shoot me a prompt. If you don't like this type of subject, then you shouldn't be reading this fic.


End file.
